Gauntlet - Rise of the Mechanist
by modus669
Summary: Sasha Petrovich, code named Gauntlet, discovers that leaving his homeland for the United States may not be the escape he had hoped for, as ghosts from his past return to haunt the mechanical hero.
1. Chapter 1

_[[This Champions Online story is purely a work of fan fiction, I do not own any rights to the Champions Online universe or any of the organizations, characters, or locations portrayed within. Please don't sue me. I'm broke anyway.]]_

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Sasha was strapped down to the table, arms and legs spread apart spread-eagle and held motionless by metal clamps locked over each limb. He could see the shadowy form of his tormentor looming over him. His features were obscured by the bright lights behind him. Only his outline and the glimmer of his large spectacles were clearly visible. The faceless villain chuckled menacingly and drew away out of view. Sasha's vision was soon replaced by several large, robotic arms. Each metal hand was tipped with a hideous array of blades, needles, and other unidentifiable metal implements which glimmered in the near-blinding light above. There was a brief pause, and then the machines whirred into action. Blades spun and metal clamps clicked and clutched as the robotic arms descended upon Sasha's prone form. A heavy, repetitive pounding sound echoed throughout the room.

"Nyet!"

Sasha woke with a shout. One arm flailed in front of him to shield him from the horrible machines coming down on him. The lamp on the small table next to Sasha's bed had been crushed as Sasha's metal fist passed through it effortlessly and into the wall. The sound of crumbling ceramic bits broke Sasha from his trance. He looked around, panting heavily, still a bit dazed. The pounding sound from his dream remained, further adding to the large man's confusion. A moment later the door to Sasha's bedroom flew open, nearly taken off its hinges by the determined kicks from the figure beyond. Light from the hallway beyond flooded the room, and a vaguely humanoid form filled the doorway. They were clutching a large handgun in a ready, defensive posture.

"Christ! Sasha! Are you alright?"

The concerned tone in Pack Rat's voice helped Sasha fully regain his senses. The large Russian forced his breathing down to a slower pace and nodded to the figure in the doorway.

"Dah. I am alright comrade."

Pack Rat relaxed, lowered his revolver and eased into the room. The ears perched atop his rodent-like head were flattened back in a display of concern, and his pink hairless tail swayed behind him, twitching through the air erratically. Pack was wearing only his boxers, and looked somewhat comical clad only in those and carrying his huge revolver. The brown-furred humanoid rodent sat on the edge of the bed and patted Sasha on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Another nightmare," Pack asked.

Sasha nodded but didn't immediately reply. He was still trying to shake the horrific images from his mind.

"The machines again," Pack leaned in, peering at his upset roommate.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry pal. I can't imagine…"

"It is alright. I'll be okay."

Pack Rat leaned around to look at Sasha's left arm.

"Um. You're left hand is still stuck in the wall."

Sasha turned his head to the left, craning his neck to look around the bulky metallic casing that housed the mechanical workings within his shoulder. Sure enough, there was his fist, buried about nine inches into the wall, having effortlessly driven past the wall panel and sheet rock. Sasha grumbled in frustration and moved to carefully extract his massive metal fist from the wall.

"Sorry Pack. I will go to hardware store after work and get materials to repair wall."

"Don't sweat it, man. Hell I nearly blew a hole in the wall of the main room when I was working on a new type of core for my revolver rounds. " Pack Rat smiled, revealing a row of sharp-looking white teeth.

Sasha was forced to chuckle despite himself as he shook the sheet rock dust from his hand. "

You gonna try and go back to sleep?" Pack Rat asked.

"Nyet," Sasha shook his head, "It is close enough to work time anyway. Might as well stay up."

"Groovy. I'll start some coffee."

Pack Rose and moved to exit the room. He paused and looked back over his shoulder.

"It's over Sasha. You're safe here. That psycho is a world away."

"I wish it were that simple comrade."

"Yeah. I know. Wait… did you call me com-rat?" Pack giggled as he left the room.

Sasha carefully eased up out of bed and headed for the bathroom sink. His mechanical arms clanked and clattered in a most un-subtle fashion as he moved. The chains and gears which powered his massive limbs afforded the Russian cyborg tremendous strength, but were unbelievably bulky. Sasha eased through the bathroom door sideways and splashed some water on his face. He had to be careful not to strike the sink, lest he leave huge gouges in the porcelain.

Sasha looked in the mirror as he wiped his face with a small towel. Even before the horrific events that bestowed him with his tremendous strength the Russian was an imposing figure of a man. He stood tall and solidly built from years working alongside his father as a construction worker. Bright green eyes gazed out from beneath the bangs of his dark brown hair which was shoulder length, straight, and usually unkempt from long days with a hard hat crammed down on top of it. While his chiseled face was typically kept clean-shaven, his body, especially his chest, fell on the hirsute side of things. This served to only partially conceal the long pale surgical scars which ran the length of his torso, spine, and legs.

His most striking features, of course, were the huge machines clamped to his body where his flesh and blood arms once resided. Sasha's arms and hands ironically resembled construction equipment more than actual arms. They were literally bolted in place, with a faint patina of mostly dried blood always rimming the border of man and machine. Their silvery-colored casing protected the internal workings, but the occasional gap still revealed the pistons, chains, and gears which provided the motive power behind the huge contraptions. Sasha had later learned that his metal parts were mostly comprised of a nearly indestructible alloy of steel and the rare element Questionite. At least the psychopath who had done this to him wasn't a cheapskate.

The shadowy figure from his nightmare had removed Sasha's original limbs and a most gruesome manner. Over the course of several days the automated arms remade Sasha into the powerful blending of man and machine he was today. Besides the obvious changes other more subtle modifications had been made to the unfortunate man's body. His spine hips and legs had been reinforced with metals similar to the arms themselves to support the force that his new arms could put forth, as well as some lesser mechanisms to aid in movement. Strange machines had been implanted within his torso and integrated with his internal organs. These bizarre devices somehow filtered and converted Sasha's natural fluids into the lubricants, hydraulic liquids, and coolants that kept the arms moving smoothly. If one were to listen closely they could be heard clicking, whirring, and humming within his chest. All through those first days of torment not one ounce of anesthesia had been used.

Sasha lived with his unusual roommate in Millennium City, formerly known as Detroit. Millennium City was an epicenter for superhuman activity, and boasted the largest population of so-called super heroes of any city in the United States, and likely the world. After having left Russia following the traumatic events that resulted in his phenomenal strength, coming to Detroit seemed to be the logical choice for the cyborg.

Sasha finished freshening up and got dressed for work. His arms made wardrobe choice a tricky affair. Sleeves were simply out of the question. In the months since he arrived in Millennium City Sasha had invested heavily in tank tops in various primary colors. Pants were much easier to deal with thankfully. Sasha favored heavily made jeans, or anything that could stand up to the rigors of his rugged lifestyle. Sasha slipped on a tank top and a clean pair of jeans and headed out of his room. In the main room of the basement apartment Sasha's ratling roommate was finishing up a pot of coffee and getting a couple of cups poured. Not long after fleeing Russia for the United States Sasha has been placed with Pack Rat on a temporary basis by UNTIL (the United Nations Tribunal on International Law). Temporary had turned into semi-permanent as the cyborg had found few others willing to rent to him out of fear of the property damage he might inflict.

"Sugar?" Pack asked Sasha. He rubbed his solid green eyes blearily, being still not fully awake.

"Nyet. Black as usual." Sasha replied.

The rat and the Russian had gotten along surprisingly well, despite the fact that UNTIL hadn't really asked Pack's permission when placing Sasha with him. Both of them fell on the unusual side of things as far as appearances went, and a sort of sympathetic camaraderie had developed between the mechanical man and the rodent in the months since Sasha had arrived.

After slamming down a steaming cup of black coffee Sasha gathered up his tool belt, yellow hard hat, safety goggles, and bright orange vest and began to get ready for work. His tools consisted mostly of large, solidly built pry bars and wrenches along with other assorted essentials for construction work. The vest, hat, and goggles were of the usual sort of standard issue safety gear for hazardous construction work.

"That orange vest makes you look like one of those trustee workers from the jail downtown. I think I left a cup lying on the floor over there. Why doncha go pick that up?"

Pack Rat chuckled at Sasha without looking up from the table he was hunched over. The rodent was always fiddling with one firearm or another. Sasha had never had any use for guns either before coming to America or since. Growing up in Russia near the border with Ukraine he had seen enough of the damage guns caused and so never had any desire to touch them.

"Hah. You are funny rat. Might want to hide though. I hear health inspector is coming to apartment complex today."

Sasha and Pack traded laughs and a couple of less than polite gestures as the robotic Russian stomped up the stairs leading to the door of their shared basement apartment. After locking the heavy metal door behind him Sasha stepped from the dim light of the basement and into the early morning light of Millennium City. The sun had only just peeked over the horizon, and the tall structures of the city still kept most of the streets shrouded in long shadows. In spite of the early hour the streets were already humming with the activity of citizens on their morning commutes. The city rarely truly slept anyway.

Sasha squinted a bit and stepped from the shadows and into the sunlight that bathed the east to west thoroughfare that would take him close to the site his employers were currently working at. He lowered his safety goggles over his eyes and positioned himself near the edge of the sidewalk. A small group of people stopped to look at the imposing man. Super humans were not an unusual sight on the streets and skies of Millennium City by any means. Also, recent advancements in technology made cyborgs common enough to not illicit stares, but Sasha's modifications were unusual when compared to the sleek, high tech looking prosthetics that other bionically enhanced people tended to sport. Thus, he tended to draw a lot of curious looks.

The burly cyborg paid the onlookers no mind as a lull in the traffic gave him the opening he was looking for. Sasha kicked off the curb, launching himself into the flow of cars. His crude industrial bionic enhancements whirred into action with and audible metallic grinding sounds. With his robotic parts fully engaged Sasha could easily keep pace with the cars around him. Each stride propelled the mechanical man along at a dizzying pace. His arms clanked and rattled loudly as they pumped rhythmically.

Then came the pain.

Sasha's metallic parts had been crammed in and attached to his body with all the surgical precision of a chain saw. When doctors in the United States first examined him they had been shocked and appalled at the cruel manner in which the Russian had been modified, and similarly impressed at how well he coped with the persistent discomfort. Pack Rat would later jokingly chalk it up to good old fashioned Russian stubbornness. Regardless, any medical attempts at mitigating the pain of Sasha's crude-but-efficient modifications had been stymied by the internal systems that had been installed and linked to his vital organs. While they quickly filtered toxins and other contaminants from his system, making him very resistant to poisons and diseases, they also made any sort of pain medications completely ineffective. Also, being so directly hardwired to his liver, kidneys, heart, and lungs made any sort of corrective measures extremely hazardous. Sasha had thus far declined to risk tampering with them.

Sasha set his jaw, grit his teeth a bit, and pushed the aching in his body into the back of his mind. His morning commute/run was one of the few simple pleasures he truly enjoyed and so he was unwilling to allow a silly little thing like a set a screaming pain receptors get in the way of that. The bionic Russian obeyed all the relevant traffic laws as he cruised along, with the minor exception of having to vault over a small blue compact car as it's driver slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a dog, which in fact turned out to be just a blowing bit of newspaper. A few turns and stop lights later, and Sasha arrived at the construction site that had been his workplace for the last several weeks.

"Hey, early today, aren't ya comrade?" The voice called from the small portable office structure set off to the side. Sasha's immediate supervisor and site foreman, Daniel Ramirez, was adjusting his hard hat and orange vest as he emerged from the tiny administrative structure. Daniel was a bit rough around the edges when it came to his people skills, but he had fought hard to help Sasha get hired when the company first hesitated to hire an augmented human for fear of union complications.

"Dah, was, how do you say, rough night." Sasha sauntered up to Ramirez as the foreman finished buckling on his tool belt.

"Well go ahead and get clocked in, you if you can move those girders to the west side of the building while the others trickle in that will help us get a head start on today's list." Ramirez gestured to the stack of huge metal beams.

"Right. I am on it."

With that, Sasha set himself to work. His job title was technically "Operations Specialist." What this really meant was "Human Forklift." Sasha's massive metal limbs and other bodily reinforcements allowed him to lift phenomenal loads with no difficulty. He had been tested when he arrive in the states, and was rated at being able to lift about 100 tons without damaging himself. Impressive by even superhero standards. As he moved the heavy metal beams one by one Sasha hummed a tune from his homeland. Despite the persistent aching the labor provoked in his body, he enjoyed the sense of accomplishment the work gave him. He felt that by building things in a world where so many forces were bent on destruction he was, in his way, making a difference.


	2. Chapter 2

A cheerful early afternoon sun was shining down on Millennium City. The towering concrete and glass skyscrapers of downtown glittered like gems in the light. A light breeze kissed the city streets. For most of the citizens going about their daily lives it was a pleasant, if a bit warm, summer afternoon.

Down at the construction site, it was a slightly different story. There was little shade to be had among the bare bones of what would eventually be another towering office building. Large cranes moved immense steel girders to the upper stories. Below various examples of heavy equipment roared as they moved immense loads of dirt and other materials, belching diesel fumes as they helped the fledgling structure take form. Dirt, grime, and concrete dust coated most surfaces as man and machine worked together to give rise to another towering structure among the other giants looming over downtown. Among the lumbering vehicles a smaller, but no less imposing, figure moved to and fro. Sasha, accompanied by his supervisor, made his way up the structure to the tenth floor where the powerfully built construction cyborg had been working.

Sasha growled as a particularly stubborn steel beam refused to slip into place properly in it's slot among the tenth story's other structural supports. It was easier for the mechanical Russian to get into tight quarters than any of the heavy machinery, especially on the upper stories of a project, and so as a building took form and grow in height Sasha tended to climb into the sky with it. Sasha leaned into the beam and planted his palms on the support and tried to push it into a fully upright position. His mechanical arms clanked and rattled as he applied a portion of his significant strength, but the girder stubbornly remained at a slightly skewed angle. After several moments Sasha took a step back from the skewed support and shrugged at Daniel Ramirez, the site foreman.

"See? I could force beam into place. But that would maybe damage ceiling or bend beam. Is no good in either case. I think support was cut a few centimeters too long."

Ramirez nodded wordlessly and peered at the support. He circled it a couple of times, pacing slowly. Sasha stood by patiently, absent mindedly clicking his metal fingers together. Ramirez stopped pacing and sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he flipped through several sheets of paper attached to his clip board. After a couple of moment he let out an annoyed growl and turned to Sasha.

"Aight here's what we do. I need you to go downstairs and get a couple of temp braces and fix 'em in place to prop up the floor above. This support here isn't a major one so we can use some temporary supports while we get this beam cut down to size. While you do that I'll get Jackson and Perry up here with the plasma torch to cut the beam to fit. After they're done you should be able to slip this pinche' thing into place and get back to doing what you do."

"Got it."

Sasha wiped the sweat from his brow with an already grimy red rag he had tucked into his belt and headed back towards the open air lift that would take him back to the ground floor. Ramirez remained behind, talking on the radio and calling for the torch crew to come to the tenth story. As the rickety contraption clattered slowly downwards to the ground Sasha stared out at the city he was helping to build. Detroit had, some years prior to Sasha's arrival, been nearly wiped off the map by a superhuman megalomaniac named Doctor Destroyer. His army of killer robots and giant super weapons had only barely been driven back by the combined forces of all the city's heroes and allied military forces. Even then many lives had been lost and much of Detroit had been left a smoking ruin.

Sasha admired the manner in which the renamed Millennium City had risen from the ashes of the old city after such devastation, and was quietly proud to be a part of its ongoing growth. Construction ran in Sasha's blood, even before the traumatic transformation which granted him his strength. Sasha's father had worked in construction before him and considering the difficulty in finding jobs in Kursk, the city in western Russia he had grown up in, it was an easy decision to follow his father into the same line of work. Work was steady, and the family never wanted for a warm meal. Not everyone in the country could claim to be so fortunate.

Sasha broke away from his thoughts as the utility lift completed its descent and rattled to a halt. He stepped off and walked across the open construction yard over to where there was a pile of angled heavy metal poles that could be used as temporary supports. Several of Sasha's co workers waved and called out to him as he passed. He gave them a casual nod and a brief wave as he moved past them to where the braces were piled up. He got along well enough with most of his crew. There had been some initial tension when he was hired due to his cybernetic enhancements. The union had been concerned about a "mechanical superman" replacing less powerful workers. There had been some question as to why such a super powered individual wasn't doing 'hero work' instead of 'taking jobs from regular folks.' In the end the union had been convinced that Sasha's presence would not be taking any jobs away from other workers and everyone eventually relaxed. That was about a year ago. The bionic Russian still kept to himself mostly on reflex though. He remained self conscious about his unusual appearance and instinctively kept a certain distance with what he considered 'normal folks.'

Sasha reached the pile of metal braces and crouched down to begin stacking several of them neatly across his shoulders. Each brace was roughly fifteen feet long and while their weight was of no concern to the mechanically enhanced man he was working out in his head the best way to balance them while carrying them back up to the tenth floor. The lift would be tricky and might not be able to handle the added weight. Sasha growled at the prospect of having to climb ten flights of stairs while balancing a couple of tons of metal on his shoulders.

Sasha's thoughts were interrupted by an unnerving high pitched metallic snapping sound from high overhead. It was loud enough to be heard even above the rattling of the other construction equipment. He lifted his gaze up towards the source of the sound, as did several of his co workers. High above the construction yard a tall stationary crane had been erected to assist in moving steel support beams and large square concrete slabs to the higher stories as they were assembled. One such concrete slab, easily twenty feet across, was dangling from the crane's lift cable. Another shrill, reverberating popping sound came from the cable. Sasha could see the tightly wound metal cord fraying as some more of the smaller strands began to give way. The crane operator could just barely be seen inside, frantically struggling with the crane's controls. The rest of the crew on the ground saw it too and scrambled to clear the area. Everyone except Jack Parker, that is. Jack was, ironically, using a jack hammer to break up the remaining chunks of concrete that made up the foundation of the site's previous structure. Like a good worker he was wearing his noise cancelling ear muffs. Between those and the pounding of the pneumatic jack hammer in his hands he had no way of hearing the cable as it began to snap, nor the panicked warning shouts of his co workers.

Sasha dropped the metal braces, letting the clatter semi-melodically to the ground, and launched himself towards Jack. His gear-and-chain-driven body ratcheted to full power with a thought. Small jets of steam spurted from his shoulders as he sprinted towards his hapless coworker. Before the bionic Russian had cleared three steps the last of the strands holding the concrete slab snapped, letting the monolith fall freely. Jack noticed the sudden motion and looked up to see the Sasha barreling towards him. He gave a wide-eyed and confused look, then glanced at his co workers who were howling and waving and pointing at the sky in warning. Finally realizing where the danger lay, Jack looked up, only to see his doom plunging towards him from above.

Sasha considered tackling Jack to knock him out of the way, but he knew that hitting Jack at full speed like this would kill him just as surely as the free falling slab of concrete. Instead the cyborg dug in his feet and slid to a halt standing right up against his bewildered cohort as as he ducked and threw his hands over his head. Sasha raised his arms high over both of their heads, hands spread wide.

A fraction of a second later the concrete floor section crashed to the ground, slamming down on top of both Sasha and Jack. The slab shattered into a pile of rubble with a thunderous impact. A cloud of dust, dirt, and grey powder was thrown up in all directions, obscuring the entire area in the wake of the shock wave. The crew looked on with horrified expressions frozen on their faces as the plume of dust washed over them. For a long moment no one could see a thing, and no one dared move until the dust settled enough to see. Daniel Ramirez appeared a moment later, panting and heaving after having sprinted down several flights of stairs.

"Wha.. what happened?" Ramirez demanded.

"The crane. Its cable snapped," one of the crew replied.

Daniel looked around, rubbing his face and neatly trimmed black mustache nervously. Then he noticed something missing.

"Where's Petrovich? I had sent him down here for some braces."

One of the crewmen pointed at the pile of rubble.

"Jack was working there, he was under the slab when it fell. Petrovich ran towards him and..."

They all stopped and stared at the crumbled concrete pile.

"Oh my god..." someone murmured.

The pile of grey rubble shifted slightly. The crew gasped in surprise as a large flat piece of slab was heaved and tossed aside, revealing Sasha and Jack Parker. Both were completely covered in tiny chunks of shattered concrete and a thick layer of grey dust. Parker was still huddled with his hands over his head. Sasha was panting heavily. His shirt and vest were badly torn, especially on his back, and he had suffered several deep cuts on his torso legs and shoulders which bled freely. Regardless, both men were alive.

A collective shout of triumph and relief went up among the gathered construction crew. Ramirez tossed his clip board and joined the rest of the crew as they clamored over pile of rubble to help Jack and Sasha get clear. Sasha waved off any attempts to assist him and hauled himself out of the concrete and over to a short stack of wooden beams where he wearily sat down. Daniel Ramirez walked over to where Sasha was sitting. He gave the Russian a curious, concerned look.

"That was incredible man! We all thought you two were goners."

"Dah. Can see how you might have thought that."

"You're bleeding pretty bad man. Don't worry. Paramedics are on the way."

"I am?"

Sasha looked around at himself. He often overlooked what he considered minor injuries, although his definition of minor was pretty broad. In fact he was prone to not even notice such injuries over the background discomfort he felt on a persistent basis. Exerting himself in a sudden manner like that caused his whole body to throb, and Sasha was finding it difficult to concentrate on his foreman's worried words.

A moment later a still dazed Jack Parker was lead over to where Sasha was seated by a small group of crew members. He grabbed Sasha's big metal hand in both of his and shook it fervently.

"Thank you man! Thank you so much! I'd be... oh man... so dead if you hadn't..."

Sasha smiled broadly as Jack stammered over his words.

"It is nothing, Jack. Just glad I could help."

"I've never seen you move that fast!" one of the crew members commented.

"Normally do not have to move so fast." Sasha chuckled in reply.

By now the crane operator had descended form the control box high above. He was clearly upset and was almost too flustered to speak clearly for several moments. Eventually Ramirez cut him off.

"What happened up there?"

"I dunno, the controls just stopped responding." The operator responded.

"What about the cable? We did a full safety check on that whole rig before we started this contract."

"I know! I was there myself when it was done. After the controls stopped working I heard something. Sounded like some kind of buzzing sound, like a wasp or a bee, then the cable started to snap."

Sasha eyed the crane from his perch on the stack of wood. The snapped cable was swaying gently in the breeze. What had caused the cable to snap like that. The company Sasha worked for had an impeccable safety and maintenance record with regards to their heavy equipment. As answers were not to be had at the moment, he shrugged and waited for the paramedics to arrive so he could stop bleeding all over everything.

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_Thanks for reading. If you enjoy this story, please also check out my other completed tale, Pack Rat: Sins of the Father. It was the first story I completed here on ._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for reading. I'd like to take a moment to thank those who have helped contribute to the ongoing story lines that Sasha (aka Gauntlet) has been involved with in Champions Online. I'd also like to personally thank DDSilverChrome, Vixen's player, for her permission to use her character in my story._

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The paramedics had arrived promptly to check Jack and Sasha over. Jack had escaped injury altogether when his mechanically augmented coworker had intervened and taken the brunt of the impact from the falling concrete floor section. Sasha was a little less fortunate. His robotic arms had withstood the impact with only a few scuffs and his metal reinforced body had taken the impact with no difficulty, but his flesh and blood back and legs suffered some deep lacerations from the jagged fragments of concrete as it shattered. The first responders were able to slow the bleeding, but the cuts would definitely need stitches. It took some convincing to move the stoic cyborg to allow his wounds to be treated at Mercy Hospital. Ramirez, Sasha's supervisor, had likewise insisted he get treated and take a few days off.

"The client doesn't want you bleeding all over their shiny new building," Ramirez joked good naturedly.

Mercy Hospital was a pioneer in both human and metahuman medicine. It boasted some of the world's premier experts in everything from mutagenic pathology to cybernetic neurology and all things in between. They even had a small department dedicated to handling exorcisms and curses when a more mystical affliction was at hand. Despite the quality of care and the professionalism and courtesy displayed by the staff, Sasha Petrovich refused to spend any more time than absolutely necessary at Mercy. Being poked and prodded by doctors evoked a lot of bad memories for the burly Russian.

After some recalcitrant grumbling Sasha finally allowed the doctors on duty to stitch up his wounds. He didn't bother to mention that the injection of pain killers they gave him would be mostly ineffective due to the action of his mysterious internal systems. At least the local anesthetic applied directly to the site of the cuts helped a little. Three hours and thirty stitches later Sasha was patched up and released. He was on orders to take it easy and return in a couple of weeks to have the stitches removed. Sasha, of course, had no intention of returning for that follow up appointment. Pack Rat was a competent field medic and was more than capable of removing the stitches once the cuts had healed sufficiently.

Sasha didn't begin to really relax again until he closed the bulky metal door to Pack Rat's basement apartment behind him. He breathed a deep, slightly troubled sigh as he eased down the narrow stairway to the living room.

"Pack? I am back early," Sasha called out as he tossed his keys onto a table, "There was problem at work so I did not get to hardware store..."

Sasha trailed off as he noticed a note tacked to the small cork board Pack kept hanging from one of the basement apartment's central supports. He recognized the rodent's chicken scratch handwriting in big black marker and plucked the note from the board. The note read:

ARMORED TRUCK HEIST. POSSIBLE VIPER INVOLVEMENT. BACK LATER. PIZZA IN FRIDGE.

Sasha nodded and tossed the note in a nearby waste bin. Pack Rat's primary employer, UNTIL (the United Nations Tribunal for International Law), would often contact the highly skilled rodent hybrid anytime the terrorist organization VIPER was suspected to be involved in a given situation. Sasha didn't know all the details but he did know that VIPER was responsible for Pack Rat's creation and that the animal hybrid took an almost unhealthy amount of pleasure in unloading large quantities of ammunition into their operatives when given the chance. If there were VIPER troops anywhere in the vicinity Sasha didn't expect to see Pack home anytime soon.

The mechanical Russian checked the clock on the wall. It was only four o'clock. He sighed and pulled a slice of pizza from the refrigerator. Ultimate Cheese Lover's. Naturally. Sasha shrugged and began to munch on the slice. He wasn't used to being home this early in the day and didn't quite know what to do with himself. Sasha spent a few minutes tending to his arms. Extreme exertion like stopping a falling concrete slab put an uncomfortable amount of strain on his flesh and blood parts and blood had been seeping from underneath the metal plates that joined metal to flesh since early this afternoon. Thankfully this had gone unnoticed among the other lacerations or else he would have probably had to spend more time at Mercy Hospital explaining the bleeding. In addition they required the occasional tightening of a nut or bolt here or there, mainly on the outer casings which protected the interior workings. The huge size of the arms made them easy enough for anyone with a passing understanding of mechanics to maintain. After securing a few bolts on his shoulders and forearms he puttered around the apartment a while before resigning himself to an evening on the couch with the television.

No sooner had Sasha settled in for a showing of one of his favorite films, The Count of Monte Cristo (circa 1934), when there came a vigorous knocking at the door. He sighed and reluctantly pried himself from the large, comfortable black sofa and trudged up the stairs to the door.

"Let me guess, forgot your keys on the way out Pack?" Sasha called out as he unlocked the heavy steel door.

"Get dressed Petrovich! We're takin' you out for drinks!"

Sasha blinked in surprise. Jack Parker and several of his other co-workers were gathered around the door, all grinning like demons. They were all dressed in suits or sports jackets and clearly ready for a night on the town. Sasha had never really been one for socializing or crowds since the events that remade his body. A construction site was one thing. He didn't feel out of place among the steel, concrete, and heavy machines. But in a social setting, among normal people, Sasha felt a lot more anxious. Sasha stammered for a moment, murmuring a few fragmented protests in Russian before settling on English.

"Doctors said I should take easy. Many stitches."

Jack stepped forward and clapped Sasha on the arm with a soft metallic chime.

"Listen man, my kids would be fatherless if not for you. Let me do this, please? Its just a few rounds of drinks, not lifting girders."

The sincere look on Jack's face disarmed the reticent Russian, and a grin slowly spread across his face.

"Hokay. Give me few minutes to get dressed."

An enthusiastic cheer erupted from the gathered men, and Sasha retreated to his room to get ready for a reluctant night on the town. While the stoutly built man normally restricted himself to simple, rugged attire for practical reasons he did have a few articles set aside for those less casual moments. Sasha dug back deep into his closet and pulled out an unusually made black vest, red shirt, and a pair of black slacks. The vest and shirt had been custom made to drape over his torso and then zip up the side, thus bypassing many of the issues the cyborg had with sleeves due to the unusual shape of his arms. Even so the process of making himself presentable was made easier with the help of an assistant. Pack Rat was more than happy to oblige, helping Sasha get suited up on those rare moments when he had to dress nicely, but he was unavailable and Sasha was certainly not going to embarrass himself by asking any of his co-workers inside to help him get dressed. Thus the process of getting ready took a tad longer than the assembled crew would have liked. By the time the Russian re-emerged some amount of the initial enthusiasm had been lost.

"Sorry guys. Wardrobe malfunction," Sasha said with a sheepish shrug.

That broke the tension, and Sasha, Jack, and the rest of the crew piled into various vehicles (Sasha hopped in the back of Jack's pickup truck, due to space limitations) and headed downtown. Millennium City's downtown entertainment district was a rainbow of lights and sounds, dance music pounded out of multiple establishments as the small caravan of well-dressed construction workers found a place to park and swarmed onto the area. Sasha lagged just a bit behind, trying to fight back the anxiety he felt welling up inside him. He didn't care too much about people staring at him when he was working. At a work site he didn't feel out of place and he had whatever task was at hand to focus on. But here, in this environment, he felt like a bulldozer lined up next to a bunch of European sports cars. One of the crew called out to Sasha, breaking him free of his nervous trance, and called him over. A club had been selected for their first stop of the evening and the big man was herded inside.

Inside the club electronic dance music pounded through a multitude of strategically placed speakers and Sasha was momentarily blinded by the strobe lights and laser beams which arced through the clouds of machine-produced mist. Dozens of young, beautiful people swayed spun across the dance floor, their forms made all the more colorful by the multicolored lights focused on them. Others lounged about small circular tables choked with a combination of empty glasses and drink in various states of fullness. Sasha winced and apologized when his metal arms nudged into several patrons as he attempted to ease past. A few sharp words were uttered but quickly silenced when whomever he had bumped into turned to look at the robotic Russian. Sasha tried to ignore the stares as he tiptoed gingerly through the crowd. After what felt like an eternity Sasha finally made his way past the masses and to the small group of tables that his co-workers had claimed. Sasha took a bench seat against the wall (he didn't trust any of the flimsy wooden chairs scattered about) and settled in. A round of drinks was ordered, and Jack called for silence as he raised a glass. He had to shout his toast over the pulsing music to be heard.

"To Sasha. Without you I wouldn't be here tonight. I owe you my life man. I won't ever forget it."

A collective cheer went up and drinks we're slammed back. Sasha smiled, appreciative of the gratitude even if it did involve dragging him out of his comfort zone. There was a series of encouraging remarks and pats on the back until someone called out, "Alright boys let's party!"

With the battle cry sounded most of the crew spread out into the club to mingle and blow off some steam. Sasha remained at the table, content to simply watch for the time being. Jack remained by his side, unwilling to leave his savior to his own devices, As the evening passed many drinks were ordered as the crew occasionally regrouped back at the table for another round. Sasha gracefully accepted, keeping to himself the fact that the mysterious devices inside him would filter out the alcohol in his system before it had any real impact on him. He did sometimes miss being able to enjoy the effects of his drinks the way he used to. Sasha nursed several beverages for awhile, preferring the nostalgia of vodka and the hearty flavor of dark imported beers while watching his friends enjoy themselves and chatting with Jack about his wife and kids. Eventually a change in music and in the tone of the noise coming form the crowd caught the cyborg's attention.

Quite a few were people gathered on the dance floor and had formed a loose, slightly scattered circle. From Sasha's position on the far side of the room he could not really see what had caused the sudden shift, but he really did not care enough to investigate further. That is... until Steve, one of his comrades, burst forth from the throng and strode over to where Jack and Sasha were seated. He planted his hands on the table, steadying himself, and blurted out:

"You guys have -got- to come see this!"

Sasha and Jack looked at each other and shrugged.

"What's the big deal, Steve," Jack asked over the rim of his glass of beer.

"There's this girl on the dance floor. Man, she's dynamite! You gotta come check her out."

"Just one girl, eh, must be something," Sasha chuckled with disinterest and sipped his drink.

"Yeah, I'm married, what do I care?" Jack laughed in agreement.

"Come on guys," Steve insisted with a slight slur, "You don't see girls like this every day."

Without waiting for a response Steve grabbed Sasha's arm, the one not holding a beer, and attempted to drag him towards the gathered group at the dance floor. The massively built Russian could have resisted, but grudgingly let himself be drug along, not wanting to ruin anyone's fun this evening. Jack rolled his eyes and followed along. Steve lead Sasha and Jack over to the gathered mass of people and quickly located their other coworkers who were all standing together and watching the action intently. Sasha, who towered over most of the people there peered over his comrades, following their gaze to the center of the dance floor, and there he saw the source of all the commotion. There, with a space of about ten feet around her, a dazzling figure of a woman was dancing with a dashing young man. She was dressed in a tight fitting white dress that was cut tantalizingly short, with a plunging neckline that revealed no small amount of cleavage, and a pair of matching thigh high leather boots with tall heels. She had a light complexion, and was petite in frame, standing only about five foot seven, but had curves that would stop any man in his tracks. The most striking features, however, were her hair, eyes, and ears. Her hair was worn straight an loose, free to flow around her as she swayed about with her dance partner, and was a vibrant pale lavender in color. Her matching eyes that possessed a faint glow to them, and pointed ears peeked out from beneath her lavender strands of silk as they tossed about. Her full lips bore a faint, but merry smile and she laughed occasionally as she mirrored her partners moves, apparently heedless of all the attention she was attracting.

"Wow..." Jack said flatly.

"I know right? She's a meta, just like you Petrovich." Steve commented

Sasha shook his head slowly, taking a sip from the sturdy glass mug in his hand.

"No. Not like me friend. Not like me at all."

"You think she's one of those elves?" someone else chimed in.

"I dunno, but I heard someone say they call her the Vixen or something like that," another replied.

"No doubt," Steve agreed with a nod.

"Hey, Sasha, you should go dance with her, cut in on the pretty boy she's dancin' with, let her check out a real man eh?" Jack nudged Sasha with his elbow.

Sasha gave Steve an incredulous look, "Nyet, comrade. I could not."

"What? Howcome,"

" Well, for one, I'd probably tear my sutures. Two, zat would be rude. And, three" he eyes his arms, "She is, how you say, out of league."

"You kiddin'? Yer a freakin' superhero man," Steve countered.

Sasha waved them off and turned away, winding his way back to the back of the club, leaving the stunning young woman and the crowd behind him. Most of his friends stayed to watch but Jack moved to follow. Once they were away from the bulk of the gathered crowd Jack jumped in front of Sasha.

"Whoa, hold up there cowboy, what's the deal?"

"What do you mean, Jack?"

"I mean, don't you think she's hot?"

"Dah, she's very pretty," Sasha could scarcely argue that point.

"Then wait till she's taking a break from dancing and go talk to her. Look," Jack gestured back over Sasha's shoulder, "She's heading for the bar right now."

Sasha craned his head, and indeed the lavender-haired beauty had gracefully made her way past the crowd towards the bar and was talking to the bartender. She was breathing a heavily, and glowing a bit from the exertion but still had that bright, lively smile spread across her lips. Several of the nearby patrons perked up and were clearly trying to chat up the metahuman girl as she tried to get something cool to drink. She seemed to be managing to avoid engaging them directly without seeming impolite. Sasha stared for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to Jack.

"Nyet, I would not want to bother her. She's got enough people bothering her."

"Figured you wouldn't be so shy around another metahuman."

"Is zat how you think it works?"

Jack gaped and shrugged wordlessly for a moment.

"Is not so simple Jack. Girl like zat, would not choose man like me."

"Why not?"

Sasha glared back at Jack.

"Let us just say zat I have been here before. Thanks for night out Jack, but I think I'll be heading home"

Jack began to protest but Sasha held up one metal hand, silencing his co-worker, and began to make his way outside. Jack frowned with concern, but let him go, taking the cue not to follow. Once outside Sasha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Almost on cue his arms vented a bit of built up steam from the ports on his shoulders. The summer breeze, while warm, still felt cool and refreshing compared to the air inside the club. Not wishing to strain his sutures more than necessary by engaging his full running speed, Sasha turned and began the long walk back to his apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

Sasha walked slowly through the city streets, making his way out of the downtown district back towards the neighborhood where he shared an apartment with his rat hybrid roommate. Even at this late hour the streets of Millennium City buzzed with activity. Both vehicles and pedestrians wove through the avenues, but in a less frantic pace than during the day. The augmented Russian ignored the stares from passers by, being lost in his own thoughts as he was. The awkward moment back at the club had reminded him of the time before he abandoned his home country and made his way to the united states.

He had not immediately left the country after escaping his captor. At the time he lived in his family's house with his girlfriend, Lena. The two had met not long after Sasha's father had passed, leaving him alone in the family home. Sasha had fallen into a pattern of going to work and simply coming home and little else. His co-workers at the construction firm his father had also worked at for years had been a surrogate family of sorts and had insisted on taking him out to break him out of his slump. It was during that outing that Sasha was introduced to the dark-haired, pixie-like girl who would steal his heart. Not long afterwards she had moved in with him and Sasha had found some measure of light returning to his life. That was, until the night he was taken away and thrust into the nightmare that would find him remade into beast of metal and flesh.

Sasha did not know how long he had been locked away by the man who was reconstructing him. Considering that his visible wounds were partly healed it could have been days, maybe weeks, but the agony he felt inside had barely subsided. In the pain and terror filled haze of his escape Sasha had only one thought... to get back home. He couldn't tell how far away from home he had been taken, for upon smashing his way free of the dank warehouse that had served as both prison and operating room none of the buildings seemed familiar. The newly risen cyborg let instinct and sheer determination guide him as he staggered nearly naked through the darkened, snowy streets. The journey was a blur, lasting two days, maybe more. The cries of shock and fear that greeted the bloodied bionic as people spotted him barely registered as he forced himself to carry on. Finally he collapsed on the doorstep of his home. A bedraggled and weary looking Lena opened to door to find her boyfriend sprawled on the snow-dusted ground.

"S-Sasha?"

Lena's short, dark hair was wild and unkempt from sleep, and her eyes could scarcely comprehend the horror laying before her in her sleepy state. Sasha stirred at the sound of his lover's voice, struggling to lift himself from the ground. His arms moved clumsily, slipping and scraping on the cobblestone street.

"Lena... I... I got away," Sasha managed to croak out.

"Oh my god," Lena gasped.

The comparatively tiny girl moved to help Sasha to his feet, but found him to be beyond her ability to budge. He was simply too heavy, even more so now with all the metal crammed inside and clamped to his body. Lena cringed as she saw the cruel manner in which he had been operated on. Blood dripped and oozed steadily from the points where metal and man collided, and the clanking of gears and hissing of hydraulics as the arms moved was beyond unnerving to the young woman. Eventually, with as much encouragement as Lena could muster in her shocked state, they managed to get him inside.

The following days were difficult to say the least. The fledgeling cyborg was in constant pain, and nothing seemed to help. Pills, liquor, none had any effect. Sasha flatly refused to go to a hospital. He believed the government would take him away to study, or that the man who remade him would find him there. Lena even went so far as to use some of her connections from her wilder days to buy heroine to try and ease Sasha's pain, but to no avail. The strange machines inside her lover eliminated the drug from his system almost as quickly as it was introduced.

In addition to the constant physical torment, Sasha's control over his new limbs was less than perfect. On more than one occasion he smashed something delicate like a glass or a plate simply trying to hold it. Sturdier items tended to fare better, but even then tools and other items often ended up bent or cracked in the grip of Sasha's titanically strong hands. Sasha noticed Lena keeping her distance, both physically and otherwise as she dutifully tended to him. During the days that followed his return she never even asked him what happened. She had begin sleeping in another room, as Sasha had begin to toss and turn fitfully in his sleep, in those rare moments when he could do so.

Sasha found it increasingly difficult to hide the frustration that was welling up inside him. On more than one occasion the two argued loudly about what to do next.

"But why not contact the United States embassy," Sasha asked, "If they can get us out of Russia safely..."

"What makes you think I want to leave?" Lena shouted back.

"It will be safer there, Lena," Sasha pleaded, "People like me are more widely known about and accepted. We could have a life there."

"I have a life here Sasha," Lena planted her feet and crossed her arms, he dark eyes were set in a scowl.

"But what if the government comes looking for me? Or the man that did this?" Sasha looked at one of his huge metal hands.

"Then you can stop them. You're strong now, right?"

"I'm not a fighter, Lena, I don't want to hurt people..."

"Well, people hurt you, why not repay the favor?"

"Even so... what if you were nearby... something could happen and..."

"I can't talk about this right now..." Lena held up a hand dismissively and turned to walk away.

"Don't walk away from me!"

Sasha growled and lashed out slapping the wall next to him, leaving a vaguely palm-shaped crater in the sheet rock and sending a tremor through the entire house. Lena jumped and spun to face Sahsha, her eyes wide with shock. Sasha stared at the wall, then at Lena.

"I'm sorry I... I didnt mean to..." Sasha stammered.

Lena backed away slowly, never taking her fearful gaze off of Sasha.

"Don't be afraid Lena, I would never hurt..." Sasha moved forward reaching one hand out towards Lena to touch her arm.

"Don't touch me!" Lena flinched and pulled away.

Sasha recoiled, pulling his hand back, "I can fix the wall..." he murmured.

Lena's eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. Without another word she turned and made for the door.

"Lena... where are you...?"

There was no answer, only the sound was the sound of the door slamming.

Sasha waited for almost three weeks. Though his incisions were healed now, he dared not leave the house for fear of being spotted and either abducted again or arrested and detained by the government. Food was running low. The power had been shut off. Sasha sat for hours in the dark, still struggling with the grinding pain in his body and the futile hope that his girlfriend would return. Finally, one morning, Sasha calmly got dressed, patiently fumbling with a shirt, removing the sleeves first and slipping it one along with a pair of jeans. He slipped on his work boots, leaving the laces tucked simply tucked inside as he had yet to be able to get them tied with his huge metal fingers. Having dressed and brushed out his tangled hair he gathered up a few mementos, a photo of his parents, his fathers stop watch, and stood in the center of his family home. Sasha looked about eying the walls of the building he had grown up in, now dark and silent.

Sasha began to breathe deeply and heavily. An angry sneer crept onto the normally stoic man's face. His metal hands clenched and the chains inside his shoulders rattled as they ratcheted into action. A cry of anger, loss, and anguish well up in his throat and finally escaped. Sasha lashed out, sending a metal fist crashing effortlessly through the wall nearby. And then again, sending chunks of wood and plaster flying. Over and over he slammed his arms into his ancestral home, rending it asunder. After only a few minutes the whole structure shuddered, and with a groan listed to one side and collapsed, throwing up a cloud of dust. Seconds later, Sasha burst forth from the remains of the house, sending a spray of debris flying out before him. He was covered in dust, bits of plaster and wood splinters. He spared a glance back towards the crumbled, smashed wreck of his family home. A crowd of shocked onlookers had begun to gather, keeping a fearful distance from the massive bionic man who was once their neighbor. Sasha ignored them, and calmly walked away, heading towards Moscow and the U.S./U.N.T.I.L. embassy therein.

That was almost five years ago. U.S. and U.N.T.I.L. officials had helped get Sasha out of the country and into the United States. In return, Sasha pledged to help U.N.T.I.L. forces when required of him, as his titanic strength could certainly be of use when facing down some of the more dangerous super-powered individuals that had turned to criminal activity. Sasha had, thankfully, rarely been called upon for such, having only been summoned twice since his defection, and was, for the most part, left to his own devices since relocating.

Sasha turned a corner, stepping onto the sidewalk now just a few blocks away from the apartment he shared with Pack Rat. He was still a bit lost in his memories when the screech of tires behind him and shouts of alarm snapped him to attention. The bionic man whirled around. The massive form of a semi truck, with some kind of tanker trailer attached, loomed into view. The vehicle was barreling down the relatively narrow street at a breakneck pace, and sparks few as the truck squeezed passed other smaller cars. Sasha had just a few seconds to react. A quick glance revealed the pedestrians had cleared out of the path of the truck, but a small public transportation bus, the kinds senior citizens and the disabled use to get around the city, was stopped in the street to unload a couple of passengers, and elderly couple, both using walkers. They were frozen in place, eyes wide with terror.

Sasha narrowed his eyes, looked back to the oncoming truck, and dashed into the street. He gritted his teeth, and dug in his heels. The chains in his shoulders clattered and the hydraulic pistons in his arms hissed as he thrusts his arms forward and dug his heels in, leaning forward into the blow as the truck plowed into him. Metal screeched against metal as the huge vehicle's momentum forced Sasha back. The front of the truck buckled and nearly wrapped around the mechanical man as he defied the truck's momentum. The asphalt crumbled as Sasha's feet, digging two deep parallel furrows in the street. The trailer behind the cab of the truck crumpled slightly, then slipped to the side and tipped over, smashing into buildings on either side of the street and shearing off portions of their fronts. The noise was deafening as the sound echoed off the tall, closely set structures. The added friction slowed the out-of-control vehicle slightly, but Sasha was still smashed against the back of the small bus as he brought the whole affair to a grinding halt. The driver of the small community bus, himself a middle aged black man, just barely managed to hop free and usher the elderly Caucasian couple clear of the bus as it suddenly lurched forward about ten feet.

There was a brief pause, then the grinding of metal and chains was heard as Sasha began to pry himself free. The community bus, being the lighter of the two vehicles pinning Sasha, moved first, sliding forward just enough for the Russian to slip free. He collapsed to his knees in the street. Dark red, wet stains were beginning to spread across his torn clothing, though the red shirt and dark vest and pants made them less than immediately obvious. Sasha's breathing was ragged and labored. He could feel a sharp, grinding pain in his chest. While Sasha's arms, spine, pelvis, and legs were all reinforced to carry the weight of his augmentations, his ribs were not so lucky.

The sound of the cab door opening caught the mechanical man's attention and he looked up to see a figure hop down from the cab and dash into a nearby alleyway. It was moving too fast in the dim light to get a clear look at it. Sasha started to shout after the figured and move to pursue, but the pain in his chest stole the strength from him and he crumpled to the ground. The bus driver dashed to his side, the name tag on his blue uniform identified his as "Preston."

"Hey buddy, you alright? Ah! You're bleeding." Preston pulled his hand back, it was coated in red.

"Stitches... from earlier. My... ribs... broken... I think..." Sasha managed to gasp out.

"Just relax man, lay down," Preston struggled to help the massive man onto his back, "Somebody dial 911," he commanded a bystander, who complied using their cellular phone.

"Have to catch... driver... ran..." Sasha coughed.

"He's long gone man. Just sit tight. Help's coming. You're tore up, but man, you did a great thing there. Saved me and that couple. Thanks." Preston reassured Sasha.

Sasha gave Preston a faint grin and a thumbs up and waited for the paramedics to arrive.


	5. Chapter 5

Pack Rat's black leather combat boots skidded slightly on the tile floor of Mercy Hospital's hallways as he turned a corner and sprinted past several unhappy interns and nurses.

"Hey! Watch where you're..." The nurse trailed off as she realized a giant brown humanoid rat in a black leather biker jacket and jeans just sped past her, causing her to lose control of a small stack of folders she was carrying.

"Sorry! " Pack called back over his shoulder.

A few twists and turns later the rat hybrid made his way to where his roommate was recovering from his injuries.

"Stop! You can't go in there. It's past visiting hours." A young, scrub-clad man stood up from his desk and called after the rat as he moved past the nurse's station.

"Bite me!" Pack snarled back with a pointed index finger, ignoring the order. The nurse sat back down.

Sasha carefully sipped a Sprite from a small cup with a straw, mindful to not crush the fragile styrofoam cup. He heard the commotion outside and gave Pack Rat an impatient look as she came to a screeching halt in the door to the small room Sasha had been moved to. The big Russian's appearance bordered on comical, with the generic white with blue print hospital robe utterly failing to cover the hirsute Russian's upper torso, having been more or less left draped over him since they couldn't get the sleeves around his huge mechanical arms. The rest was covered by a plain white sheet. Fresh bandages and new staples to close his reopened wounds were concealed underneath. Sasha's bloodied clothes were folded up and lay in a chair not far from the smallish hospital bed, which currently creaked and strained under the weight of its occupant.

"What kept you comrade?" Sasha said calmly.

Pack gave Sasha a incredulous look, and suppressed a chuckle.

"What kept me? I leave the house for one day to go kick VIPER around a bit, and when I come home there's a small army of first responders gathered a block from the apartment! Then I find out you tried to stop a semi.."

"I did stop semi..." Sasha interjected.

"...stopped a semi truck AFTER you had already had a concrete floor section fall on your head earlier? What the hell man?"

"Was definitely off day for me."

Sasha set his cup down on the nearby table, fumbling it a bit. The empty cup eventually fell over. He flicked of from the little rolling table in annoyance. Sasha took a closer look at Pack Rat and noticed that underneath his leather jacket there were some red stains seeping through the ratling's white shirt. The injured cyborg gave Pack a concerned look

"What happened to you, Packy? You're bleeding."

Pack closed his jacket around himself nervously.

"It's nothing. Little more trouble with VIPER than I expected."

"Pack..." Sasha glared.

"Okay okay there was one of my father's little playthings there. Some kind of cat hybrid."

"A hybrid? Like you?" Sasha raised a brow inquisitively.

"More like a hybrid of a cat and a blender," Pack grumbled and rubbed his arm, "So, how long are you in for?" Pack changed the subject.

"I'll be leaving in the morning."

"Really? They're discharging you in the morning?"

"No. But zat is when I will be leaving. It is only a few broken ribs."

"Only, he says," Pack shook his head in awe of the big man's tolerance for hellish agony.

Just then, two men in grey security uniforms walked up behind Pack Rat. One was clearly a bit younger than the other and cringed a bit as they walked up towards the rat man. The older guard, a Hispanic man in his early thirties with a neatly trimmed mustache, approached Pack while the other held back.

"Um... sir... it's after visiting hours. I'm going to have to escort you back to the lobby." He said firmly, but politely.

Pack glanced back over his shoulder and gave the guards a defiant look, than turned back to Sasha.

"It's okay Packy. Can I ask you to come by with truck around nine or soin morning for ride home, dah?"

Pack nodded to Sasha and turned to leave. The guards moved to hold Pack by one arm to lead him back to the lobby, but the Rat snarled, hissed at them and jerked away.

"I can find my way thank you very much," he growled.

Sasha began to chuckle at his roommate's dislike of authority figures, but quickly thought better of is as his broken rib bones twinged.

The next morning Sasha checked himself out of the hospital against the recommendations of the doctors there. He gently brushed them aside and made his way out the front doors where Pack Rat was waiting with his beat up old pickup truck. The vehicle was a combination of rust brown and primer gray and had taken more than its fair share of bullets which remained un-patched as badges of honor. There was no way the trucks cab could hold Sasha, between his height and the extra clearance required for his huge metal shoulders, so normally Sasha piled into the bed instead.

The mechanical man carefully eased himself into the bed of Pack's pickup, wincing a bit as he settled in. He tapped twice on the top of the cab and Pack pulled away. The drive was uneventful, and Sasha enjoyed the feeling of the cool morning air blowing through his shoulder-length hair as his roommate cruised gingerly down the streets, avoiding bumps as best he could. The peaceful moment was short-lived, however.

"Aww crap," Sasha could hear Pack Rat groan as they turned onto the street leading to their apartment. Sasha craned his head to look while Pack parked the truck. Two police cars were parked on the street just outside the steps leading to the door to the basement dwelling.

"Don't worry Pack. I expected this."

"Yeah? Well I still don't like when these guys show up unannounced."

Sasha grunted an acknowledgment as he slowly climbed down out of the truck. His breath caught a few times from the sting of his broken ribs. Pack offered a hand but Sasha waved him off. The two then moved towards their apartment and the waiting police officers. As they approached Pack scented the air and sneered. Sasha gave him a quizzical look.

"What is it?"

"Jenkins, and three others I don't know."

"How do you know it's him."

"It's that aftershave of his. He's the only cop I know who smells like a combination of old spice and turpentine."

Pack made an exaggerated gagging sound. Sasha shook his head and grinned.

Sure enough, waiting for them near the top of the steps to the basement apartment were four police officers. Two of them were waiting patiently by their patrol cars, the other two were waiting to intercept the super-powered duo as they walked up. Captain Rufus Jenkins stood forth. Despite being in his early fifties he was an imposing figure of a man, by regular human standards. He was tall, muscular, and carried the bearing of a military officer. The image was further enforced by his greying hair, kept buzzed high and tight. His eyes bore a near perpetual squint and beneath those scowling eyes a bushy grey mustache waggled as he sneered at the approaching metahumans.

"Heeey Rufus. What brings Millennium City's finest to my neck of the woods?" Pack Rat asked, dripping with feigned cordiality.

"Stow it, Rat, I'm here to talk to your roommate." Jenkins growled. The female policy officer standing behind Jenkins rolled her eyes a bit.

Sasha and Pack glanced at each other a moment before Sasha spoke up, "I have had extremely rough couple of days, officer, can this not wait for another time?"

"No," Jenkins said flatly.

"Am I under arrest?" Sasha sounded surprised.

"Not yet," All three of the police officers accompanying Jenkins gave him an exasperated look from behind his back.

"Then man saved the lives of four people in one day and then you guys show up to start giving us crap!" Pack angrily thrust a finger in Jenkins' direction, " I swear I..." he was cut off by Sasha as he gently lowered Pack's hand.

"Is alright, Pack. Would you mind making run for breakfast? I have not eaten since yesterday." Sasha gave Pack a calm look.

The ratling forced back his sneer and nodded.

"You got it pal. I'll grab somethin' for us. I dunno why but I'm in the mood for bacon." Pack chortled as he turned to walk away, "Or maybe donuts... he added after a few steps."

The officers smirked and one of them stifled a laugh, but Jenkins wasn't nearly so well humored. His face began to turn an unflattering shade of red. He was clearly about to stalk off after Pack rat when Sasha interrupted.

"Let me unlock door, Captain," Sasha limped down the stairs, past the grumbling police captain and retrieved his keys from his pocket to unlock the door.

"I have a license for everything in there!" Pack called from the truck as he pulled out of the small parking lot and drove away.

Sasha held back a laugh and opened the door, allowing the officers inside. After Pack Rat was gone Jenkins seemed to relax, but just barely. The mechanical man descended slowly then eased himself into one of the apartments big black leather sofa's and breathed a shallow sigh. He was still wearing the shredded, bloodied clothes from the previous night, but he had a feeling Jenkins was going to be less than willing to give him time to change. All four police officers' eyes went wide as they gazed upon the arsenal that was Pack Rat's work area across from the living space. Rows and rows of firearms of various kinds hung on the wall or laid in various states of assembly on the rodent's work crafting table.

"Rat's a menace..." Jenkins murmured.

"Have a seat officers," Sasha gestured to the other sofa and chairs positioned around the room. The three accompanying officers moved towards the seating but Jenkins simply moved to stand a few steps in front of Sasha.

"We'll stand, thank you," Jenkins said, glancing at the officers with him. It was more of a command than anything. The three took the hint, stopped, and simply stood quietly.

"So, what brings you by?" Sasha asked wearily.

"Like you said, you had an interesting day yesterday. Two major accidents. Only thing in common was you." Jenkin's tone was mildly accusatory.

"I would not say major. No fatalities. And last time I checked I was only person injured." Sasha frowned up at the captain of the ninth precinct.

"Uh huh, that truck last night sheered the face off three buildings." Jenkins quirked a brow, "I did a little reading on you, Petrovich. Russian national, defected to the US a year ago, registered with UNTIL and PRIMUS but you've hardly been running in superhero circles."

"I prefer simpler lifestyle. Something wrong with zat?"

"You're rated at 100 ton lifting capacity with those arms, pound for pound that's as strong as any metahuman around short of Grond, and you expect me to believe you just want to work construction?"

The patrol woman in the group gave a low, impressed whistle. Grond was a well known... thing... He could scarcely be described as a villain because that would require something resembling conscious thought. He was more of a force of nature, a titanic, towering, mutated, four armed giant that roamed the desert of Arizona where nuclear tests had long ago reduced the area into a blasted, radioactive wasteland. One did not defeat Grond. One could only hope to contain or distract him. Sasha didn't appreciate the comparison.

"If you read file you'd see that I was not willing recipient of my modifications."

"Yeah I read that. But who really knows what happened before you showed up at the U.S. embassy in Moscow, eh? I've seen D-listers like you try to make a name for themselves before. Can't get into the big-boy's club like the Champions so you arrange a few... incidents."

"You think I made those things happen?" Sasha said in a shocked tone, "Jack is my friend! He almost got crushed. Those people on the street could have been killed. I would never..."

"Yeah yeah, course not."

Sasha had about reached his limit, he clenches one giant metal fist reflexively.

"I tried to be polite, but clearly, how do you say, zat ship sailed. You have something to say, then say it, otherwise, arrest me or get za hell out of my apartment."

The patrolmen, and woman, shifted nervously.

"You metas think you run everything don't you?" Jenkins narrowed his eyes, looking down his nose at the wounded cyborg.

There it was. Sasha had heard Pack complain about the captain before, but he had hoped that it was just the rat hybrid being overly sensitive. Obviously Jenkin's bigotry towards metahumans of any kind had not been exaggerated. Sasha gave a disappointed sigh, which became a wince as he forgot himself and breathed too deeply, sending a twinge of pain through his torso.

"We'll give you a couple of days to rest up, rooskie, but I want you down at the station to give a statement."

"I have statement for you..." Sasha growled under his breath, "Ribs are broken so... forgive if I do not see you to door."

The lower ranking police took the cue and moved to leave. The lady officer silently mouthed, "I'm sorry..." at Sasha as she passed behind her captain. Jenkins lingered for a moment, staring at the industrial cyborg. Sasha stared right back. After a long moment Jenkins snorted and strode up the staris and out the door, slamming it behind him. Sasha laid his head back against the sofa, his cranium perched in between the over sized casings which contained the chains and gears in his shoulders. The whole affair was giving him a headache.

Several minutes later Pack Rat returned with a couple of bags clutched in his three-fingered hands.

"Where'd Jenkins and the pork patrol run off to."

"Back to station I suppose."

"Something tells me they weren't here just to get a statement."

"Oh they want zat too, but mostly captain wanted to get a read on me."

"That jackass couldn't get a read on a Dr. Seuss book," Pack grumbled and set one bag on the sofa next to Sasha.

"Maybe so... but he did have a point."

"What point?"

"Two accidents, one day, both with me there. Seems strange."

Pack Rat plucked a sausage biscuit from his bag and began to munch on it noisily.

"Yeah... could just be coincidence," Pack murmured in between bites.

"Yeah. I hope that's all it was."


	6. Chapter 6

Sasha's recovery was swift as always. The burly Russian's natural hardiness, combined with the stimulation of his healing processes by the machines latched onto his vital organs, meant that he would bounce back quickly from pretty much anything that didn't kill him outright. However, the few days he spent resting at home did little to settle his mind. Regardless of his poor attitude, and misdirected suspicions, Jenkins was right about the events of several days ago. The incident at the construction site could have been written off as an accident, but the truck tipping over hours later certainly felt a lot less accidental in light of the driver sprinting away after what would have injured or at least stun any normal person.

The hospital had documented that the Russian's injuries would take at least six weeks to heal enough for him to return to work. He knew that he would heal much faster than that. Sasha's superiors at work had insisted he take the full amount of time recommended by the hospital to recover from his wounds, for liability reasons, despite his protests. So, for the time being, the cyborg was at loose ends.

Pack Rat had been more than supportive. In fact he had been attentive to the point of annoyance on more than one occasion, having to be shooed away by a frustrated Sasha several times. Today, the rodent was away training a small UNTIL special forces troop in anti-VIPER tactics. No one knew the snake-themed terrorists better than he did. Sasha was thankful for the peace and quiet as he sat at the small kitchen table, sipping a steaming mug of coffee and flipping through the newspaper from a few days ago.

Both of the "accidents" had made the paper's middle section. There had been mention of a 'metahuman employee' at the construction site, and of a 'local hero' at the truck accident, but Sasha's name had managed to stay out of print. This suited Sasha just fine. He had never craved the attention that most of the hero types in the city of super humans managed to regularly attract. He didn't really consider himself a hero anyway.

Sasha set aside the newspaper, slammed down the rest of his black coffee, and looked around for something to occupy his time. While he was enjoying his down time to a degree but sitting around the quiet basement apartment he shared with Pack Rat was making him fidgety. Without the routine of his job to focus on the big Russian's mind was prone to wander. He puttered around the apartment a bit, straightening up, sweeping. He crushed the pile of 'Darren's Pizza' boxes Pack Rat left behind after a quadruple cheese bender down to something manageable. all took only an hour or so, leaving Sasha with an orderly apartment, but still too many unanswered questions.

Giving up on staying in today Sasha exchanged his bandages for clean ones, slipped on a clean black tank top, and left the apartment, heading for the work site. He was reluctant to engage his body's full strength for running just yet, didn't easily fit into most cabs, and Pack Rat was away with his pickup truck, so, he walked. An hour or so later he arrived at his workplace. He was quickly intercepted by his boss. Daniel Ramirez stalked towards the mechanical man from across the dusty construction yard, tossing his clip board back over his head in frustration.

"No! Just... no. You can't be here man," Ramirez pointed as Sasha and began flailing his hands, "What part of mandatory recovery time you not understanding hombre?"

"Calm down, Ramirez, I am not here to work." Sasha gestured defensively.

Ramirez breathed a sigh of relief, "Good, I can only imagine the cow the insurance people would have. What you need then man?"

Sasha looked up at the work being done on the building. Construction had proceeded without him, but work on the upper stories was stopped while OSHA conducted their investigation on the crane. The area around the massive machine and the pile of debris form the plummeting concrete slab was cordoned off with yellow hazard tape.

"Have za OSHA people finished checking the crane out?"

"Almost. There's um..." Ramirez hesitated.

"What?"

"There's an issue with the cable that broke."

"You mean besides that it broke in first place?" Sasha frowned.

"Yeah. When they unrolled it to examine the break, the cable didn't seem frayed. It seemed cut. Sheared straight through."

Sasha frowned at that, "That's... not good."

"No. It's not. On top of that the edges seemed to be almost melted."

"Melted? Did Frank see or hear anything while he was up there operating the crane?"

Ramirez shook his head, "Couldn't hear anything over the engine, but he says he thought he saw a red flash or something. Nothing definite. He's on paid leave while the review is in progress."

Sasha scratched his chin, "Can I see the cable?"

Ramirez quirked a brow, "I 'spose so, why?"

"Just want to see for myself."

Ramirez shrugged and lead Sasha over to towards the taped off area. Nearby lay a large coil of thick steel cable that had been unrolled from the currently inoperative crane. Next to that was a shorter length that was still attached to a broken chunk of concrete, the last remains of the concrete slap that had fallen on Jack and Sasha several days prior. Ramirez stood by with a slightly impatient look on his features, being anxious to get Sasha off site and avoid any bureaucratic entanglements, while Sasha bent down and picked up both ends of the cable, one in each hand, and examined them. If the cable had simply failed due to physical stress, the tightly coiled bundled of metal cord would have snapped one by one, giving a sort of frayed appearance. Not so here. The cable was indeed cut clean with a hint of melting at both ends.

Sasha frowned as he peered at the two pieces. He was certainly familiar enough with things that could cut steel cable pretty cleanly. A diamond-toothed saw or a cutting torch could have easily done so, but not without a great deal of noise, sparks, and at least a little time, and certainly not so cleanly. Whatever did this did so in one clean stroke. Sasha retrieved his smartphone and, using voice commands, took several photos of the severed cable before laying it back down where he had found it.

"Seen what you need to see, Petrovich?" Ramirez asked hopefully.

"Dah, thanks boss." Sasha gave his foreman a grateful smile as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

"Good," he slapped Sasha on the over sized Questionite casing that served as his shoulder, "Now get out of here before someone important sees you and I have to explain why you were within 1 mile of this place."

Both men laughed, exchanged goodbyes, and Sasha made his way off site.

A brief walk later, Sasha had made his way out of downtown and into Renaissance Center. The circular plaza was the heart of the city as far as the superhero community was concerned. The center of the the plaza was a round, open auditorium of sorts with terraced rows of soft grass for watching performances, or just having a picnic. The middle region consisted of stalls for food vendors and an open air market that featured goods and services with the metahuman community in mind. High tech communicators and waterproof smartphones, fire and/or bullet-proof capes and costumes in a variety of styles and colors, non-lethal self defense tools, and other such heroic essentials were to be had for those in the community with the means to afford them. Positioned around the center were tall buildings featuring soaring, flowing architecture. Many features facades resembling soaring angels or other similar heroic figures. Sasha often wished he had lived in Millennium City around the time they were constructed so he could have been part of the creation of such beautiful structures. These buildings served as administrative offices, financial centers, and training facilities for aspiring heroes. Sasha had rarely availed himself of such services, but, they had come in useful for him once or twice. Finding a Tae Kwon Do instructor who wasn't afraid of being hit by an over sized industrial cyborg would have been a daunting task if not for the services offered here, and it was among the skilled tailors working in the shops at Renaissance center that he had been able to procure the nicer clothes that would fit around his arms.

Tucked between these tastefully hued towers was a, only slightly smaller, strikingly colored building. The almost obelisk-like structure featured supports of dark black with windows and highlights of bright green. Club Caprice was unique among the dance clubs and bars throughout the city in that only those who could demonstrate superhuman powers or were otherwise known heroes were allowed entry, with the occasional notable exception. At night the entire structure pulsed and vibrated from the intense music being played throughout the club's multiple floors, and the bright green windows and highlights pulsed in time.

Sasha stepped in past the the automatic front door and a pair of cybernetically enhanced bouncers who nodded at him approvingly. He made his way past the foyer and into a hallway that branched left into a lounge area, and right into the bar and dance floor of the first story. He took the right fork and made his way to the bar. Because it was early afternoon the club's music was much more subdued, and the normally frenetic neon and laser lights were merely pulsing softly. Sasha eased up to the bar. Joe, the club's long suffering head tender set down the glass he was cleaning and moved over to Sasha.

"Haven't seen you in a few days," Joe noted

"Minor accident, been staying home," Sasha replied, "How bout a dark n' stormy, Joe?"

"Right-o."

"Hey Joe, any smart ones come in today?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, science types. I need second opinion on something technical."

Joe moved to assemble the rum and ginger beer mixed drink while he replied, "Been quiet most of the day, but yeah I think she qualifies."

"Who?"

"Over there," Joe nodded, drawing Sasha's attention to the other side of the room.

Some distance away at a booth against the wall, a female form was laboriously working on some manner of apparatus. She was clad neck to toe in a suit of tight, light looking power armor colored white with blue trim and highlights. The full-masked helmet was detached and setting on the seat next to her. Her pale lavender hair was pulled back and bound into a high ponytail, keeping it out of her face and revealing her pointed ears as she tinkered away at an oblong contraption in front of her. Sasha gave a slightly surprised grunt as Joe slid his drunk over. Sasha passed a couple of bills as payment back to Joe and took a sip of his drink, watching the girl from the dance club he had been at the night of the truck accident work. Her brow was furrowed in concentration over her faintly glowing lavender eyes, and she had a less than pleased crook to her full lips as she switched to another tool.

"Thanks, Joe," Sasha murmured.

Joe smirked and returned to reorganizing the bottles along the back of the bar in preparation for another evening. Sasha pushed away form the bar and ambled over to where the striking young woman was working. She remained focused on the device in front of her as Sasha approached. He could hear it humming slightly as he neared the booth. Upon closer inspection he could see a caduceus symbol on the shoulder plate of the woman's armor, the universal symbol of the medical profession.

"Excuse..." Sasha started to say.

"One sec," the woman interrupted, raising a finger while still holding some unusual looking tool in her hand, "this thing's likely to blow if I don't recalibrate it like right now."

Sasha's eyes widened, "Really?"

The woman chuckled, "No, not really, I just like telling people that.," There was a musical lilt to her voice that was only slightly overpowered by her sarcastic tone.

She pressed a button on the side of the device and the humming it was emitting began to steadily fade away. Sasha breathed a sigh of relief and gave a bemused chuckle. Only then did the woman shift her position to look at Sasha. Her eyes widened steadily as her gaze crawled steadily upwards to eventually look Sasha in the eyes.

"Geez man, you're like, huge. What are they feeding you?"

Sasha grinned at her reaction, "Mostly vodka and borscht."

"Fair enough. Did you need something?" she asked while pushing her tools and contraption aside.

"Dah. Allow me to introduce. Name is Sasha."

"Hi Sasha. You can call me Vix."

She extended one dainty hand. The cyborg hesitated a moment before responding in kind. The smaller woman's hand barely wrapped around just one of his fingers. She peered at the hand and attached arm quizzically for a moment before releasing it.

"Interesting work," she said with a faint hint of concern, "Are these what you had questions about, Sasha?"

"Eh, no. I was wondering, what do you know about energy-based weapons?"

A wry smile crept across Vix's face.

"Why does everyone assume the alien knows about ray guns?"

Sasha blinked, "You are offworlder? I had you figured for...?"

"An elf. I know. I get that all the time," Vix, interrupted. Her voice with tinged with vague annoyance, "But, I'm not. Been here on your little slice of space for a few years now. Most people just assume I'm an elf because of the ears."

She paused a moment, giving Sasha an appraising look, "Hm. You say "offworlder" instead of alien?"

"Dah, never did like the term 'alien.' Sounds too... unwelcoming."

Vix's sarcastic tone softened somewhat, "I like that."

"So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Know about energy weapons."

"Well, yeah, duh, I'm an alien-er offworlder. We all have ray guns," Vix shrugged at him with feigned frustration, eventually breaking into a broad smile. "No, I really do have a ray gun. Why do you ask?"

Sasha chuckles and rolled his eyes. He retrieved his smart phone and opened up the gallery of pictures he had taken of the severed cable from the construction site. He handed the phone to Vix.

"Can you maybe tell me something about what caused this cut?"

Vix looked at the pictures, swiping through the different angles that the Russian had captured. After lookiung through them all she handed the device back to Sasha.

"Well, you're probably right about it being done by some kind of energy weapon. That's a really clean cut."

Sasha nodded and pocketed his phone.

"Wait," Vix continued, "Is this from that accident I heard about a couple weeks back?"

"Dah, I work at company building New Millennium Bank tower."

"Huh. I had you figured for..."

"The super hero type? I know," Sasha interrupted, "Get that all the time."

He shot Vix a sly grin.

"I leave that sort of thing to roommate."

Vix laughed merrily, her voice had a "Touche. Well whoever did this probably did it up close. To cut something that fast and clean the beam would have to be very focused. You just don't tend to get that kind of precision with a long range blaster, like the kind VIPER uses."

Sasha scratched his chin, "That is... bothersome."

"How so?" Vix asked, quirking one lavender brow with interest.

"Nobody really saw anything, not even crane operator, just a flash of red light."

"Hmm. Must be a sneaky type then."

"Must be." Sasha frowned in thought for a moment, then blinked and returned his attention to Vix.

"Thank's for taking a look at these Vix. It was a big help."

Vix waved a hand dismissively, the "It's nothing, I was just tinkering."

"I noticed," Sasha looked over Vix's unusual tools and strange, oblong device sitting on the table, "Mind if I ask what all this is?"

Vix gave Sasha an appraising look, "You sure you want to know?"

"Dah." Sahsa nodded , "Looks interesting."

"Have a seat, Sasha."


	7. Chapter 7

_[[I'd like to take a moment here to personally thank DDSilverchrome, Vixen's player, for her permission to include her appearance in my story. Gauntlet's story wouldn't be complete at all without her in it.]]_

* * *

Sasha eased into the booth across from Vix. He had to shove the seat back slightly to accommodate his size. The alien girl raised both eyebrows and chuckled as the big Russian shuffled into place.

"I thought you might not look as big sitting down. I was wrong."

Sasha smirked and gave a bit of a shrug, "It is the arms. Otherwise would simply be big rather than massive. So what is it you are working on here?"

"This," Vix slid the oblong contraption back to its previous position in front of her, "Is the power supply for the armor I'm wearing."

"I am not knowing much about such technology, but, does not power armor usually need to have, well, power, to be able to move?"

Vix nodded as she gathered up her tools, "Most of the time, yeah, but this armor isn't designed to augment me physically. The power unit is supposed to provide power to my force field, weapons, and on board medical equipment."

"Supposed to?" Sasha asked, quirking a brow inquisitively.

"Mmhmm," Vix frowned as she reopened the small panel in the power unit, "It works, but, I've got a problem with overheating. The power supply and the armor hold up fine but after about ten minutes it's so hot in the suit I feel like I'm going to pass out. Not much of a medic if I black out, yeah?"

"I noticed doctor's symbol on your shoulder there. So you are engineer as well as healer?" Sasha gave her an impressed nod, "Wish I was that smart. Are all your people so talented?"

Vixen waved a hand dismissively, "Nah, most of them are kinda narrow minded. Tend to specialize in one thing and not know much about anything else."

"Where you are from? What world, I mean."

"Zaonvar. Or rather, we used to be from there." Vix paused in her tinkering to give a sigh.

"Something... bad happened, no?"

"Zanovar's orbit decayed and... well..." Vix's expression became sad and wistful, "We managed to save most of the population. But now we're kinda stuck as a roving refugee fleet. That's why I'm here."

"So you are... diplomat also?" Sasha blinked.

Vix nodded, still focusing on her overheating power supply, "The fleet needs lots of food and materials to keep going. Part of what I do is negotiate supply runs."

"You wear many hats Vix." Sasha chuckled.

"No. Not really. Hat's never really suited me. They make my hair look all flat." Vix's expression was similarly flat.

Sasha and Vix sat there in silence for a moment. Sasha eventually chimed back in.

"That was figure of speech."

"Oh?" Vix looked up from her device, giving Sasha an embarrassed look, "Sorry about that. I'm good with languages but sometimes metaphors and colloquialisms go over my head."

"Ah. Is okay. English is not first language for me either."

Another moment passed. This time it was Vix who broke the silence.

"So. Is there flesh and blood under the metal there, or are those replacements?" Vix gestured towards Sasha's arms with a utensil that was somewhat but not entirely like a screwdriver.

Sasha cast a dissatisfied look at his arms before speaking, "They are all mechanical."

"Who made them? They don't look like any other cybernetics I've ever seen."

"Could not tell you," Sasha shrugged. His arms rattled a bit. "Was unusual circumstance."

"You didn't want your modifications? Wait... were you even hurt before hand?" Vix's eyes widened a bit.

"Nyet. I am guessing man who did this wanted healthy subject."

"He took your arms and put these on?" Vix's gaze wandered up the massive mechanical limbs.

"Dah." Sasha nodded.

Vix set down her tool and slid from her seat and took a couple of steps over to Sasha and peered at his left arm. She rested her hands on it and leaned in close, examining the gaps in his metallic casings. There was a mix of scientific curiosity and wide-eyed wonder mixed on the woman's face. Sasha froze in place, unused to the sudden close contact.

"It looks like... chains and pistons in there," Vix sounded surprised, "How strong are they?"

"Very. Can lift about one hundred tons over head before body begins to fail."

Vix looked up from Sasha's arm and shot him a shocked look, then eased away a bit. "That must mean the rest of you is reinforced too?

Sasha nodded, "Questionite reinforcement in spine, pelvis, legs, and feet."

Vix whistled through her teeth, "That's some rare and expensive stuff."

Sasha smirked back at her, "Dah. Is always good to know that your sadistic madman is, at least, not cheapskate."

Vix continued to look over the structure of Sasha's arms. When she reached his shoulders the offworlder girl gasped in shock as her examination reached the junction where man met metal. The stretched skin and patina of dried blood was mostly covered by the cyborg's vest and shirt but was certainly noticeable upon close inspection.

"Gods... what did they do to you...?"

Sasha frowned, fidgeted nervously and didnt answer the question. Vix gave him an apologetic look as she slid back into her seat and began to again hunch over the table, tinkering with her power unit. "How long were you unconscious for when he did all this?"

Sasha shook his head, "Was never unconscious."

Vix stopped short and rolled her eyes up at Sasha without moving. "What?"

"Anesthetic was apparently not in good doctor's budget."

The offworlder pursed her lips and processed that for several seconds. She shuddered, then made deliberate eye contact with the big Russian.

"I'm... so sorry." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Sasha smiled and glanced away, "It is alright..."

At that moment Sasha's smart phone beeped, he retrieved it from his pocket and glanced at the screen, a message from Pack Rat appeared on the display. The message read: 'TROUBLE. BIG TIME. CALL ME.'

Sasha's eyes widened a bit.

"I am... needing to get going."

"Oh?" Vix had a slightly concerned expression, "Is something wrong?"

"Dah. Not sure what," Sasha frowned as he worked himself out of the booth, "It was nice to finally meet you."

Vix canted her head to the side questioningly, "Finally?"

Sasha shuffled his feet. "I... er... Saw you couple weeks back at one of the smaller clubs downtown."

Vix tapped her unusually shaped hand tool against her chin for a moment, "Why didn't you say hello then?"

The mechanical man shrugged and avoided eye contact. "Friends tried to get me to but... you were with someone."

The lightly armored medic rolled her eyes upwards in thought for a moment, "Oh! James? He's just a co worker. But it's not like it would have been awful to introduce yourself in any case."

"Well, as they say, better late than never, dah?"

"Dah. See you round Sasha." Vix shot him a bright smile, exposing her impossibly perfect teeth for a moment.

"See you..." Sasha turned to leave, sparing a glance back at the alien beauty before speed walking back towards the elevator.

The massive Russian squinted as he stepped out of Club Caprice's front doors and into the bright afternoon sun. He retrieved his phone from and voice dialed Pack Rat.

"Yo! Big man!" Pack Rat's voice was broken by static.

"Message said there was big trouble. Where are you?"

"Still in Arizona. And yeah... major trouble. You know Grond right?"

"Not personally." Sasha frowned, his impatience evident in his tone.

"Well, he's been captured!"

"But... that is good thing, dah? Project Greenskin has been trying to capture him for years."

"That's the problem. It wasn't Greenskin's people that nabbed him."

"Who then?"

"No idea! I was leading these UNTIL guys in some training maneuvers when the alarm went out on the radios that Grond was sighted by satellite in an area outside his usual radioactive stomping grounds and they wanted some eyes on him from the ground. So we broke off training and moved to his last known location."

"So what happened?"

"Damnedest thing I've ever seen. Just as we got there we heard Grond roar, then there was this huge crashing sound. Man you haven't heard loud till you hear that monster let loose...

"Get to point Packy," Sasha urged as he walked slowly towards a covered seating area further inside the circle of Renaissance Center.

"Right. The big lunkhead was on the ground, and there was all these guys holding him down with cables stretched across him."

"That has been tried that before, right?

"Far as I know it never worked. But something was even weirder about the whole thing."

"What?"

"All those guys had arms that looked just like yours."

Sasha froze in place, standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a blank, dumbfounded expression.

"What?"

"Yeah. Different shade of metal, so my best guess is they aren't made of questionite like yours, but otherwise, same oversized shoulder casings, massive hands, the works."

The mechanical man remained still and silent for a long moment. A torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions played across his features. He stood in place, oblivious to those parting to swerve around him as they went about their business.

"Sasha... Sasha?" Pack's static riddled voice crackled over the phone.

"I-I'm here Packy," Sasha stammered as he shook free of his trance, "What happened after?" Sasha managed to move over to the seating area and sit down on a bench.

"Some metal-plated chick came outta nowhere, bounced up onto Grond's head and I couldn't make out much of what happened there. Grond was thrashing around, threw up a huge cloud of dust. A minute or so later, he just stood up and took off back towards the radioactive wastes."

"I thought you said he was captured?"

"That's the thing. The metal chick was on his shoulder, riding along and pointing like some kinda co-pilot. I think he's being controlled."

"And metal girl, what did she look like?"

"Eh. I didn't a great look at her. She wasn't all that big, and a lot faster than your lookalikes. Covered in some kinda shiny, tight fitting, metal armor. Short blood red hair. That's about all I saw really.

"What about other people, the ones with... arms... like mine?"

"They took off behind Grond. Truckin' along kinda like you do at full sprint."

Sasha took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves.

"Any idea where they went."

"Desert's a big place. And all the fallout around Burning Sand's scrambles most sensitive electronics. Makes it near impossible to get a fix, even by satellite."

"What are you doing now?"

"Me and the UNTIL squad are on our way back, going to report back to Project Greenskin's base first then hop a transport back to Millennium City for debriefing. I just wanted to let you know what happened first since... well... y'know."

"I get it. Thanks Packy."

"Listen, Sasha, you may want to keep your head down on this one man. I'll try to make it all crystal clear in my reports but when word get's around that there's a buncha rogue cyborgs out there packing the same hardware as you..."

"Am not going to run and hide, Pack."

"I mean just till we get this whole thing sorted out."

"No. If UNTIL or police want to talk to me they know where to find me."

"Dammit Sasha!"

"Thank you for head's up comrade, see you when you get home."

Sasha hung up the phone and silenced it before Pack Rat could protest further. Sasha sat on the bench for several minutes, processing what Pack Rat had relayed back to him. Could it be coincidence that the two 'accidents' that seemed to target him were followed by the appearance of cyborgs sporting similar augmentations to his? Not likely, he thought. That, and the thought that this could somehow implicate him further in the events of a couple of weeks ago was nearly as upsetting.

"I have tried very hard not to get involved in the affairs of heroes and villains..." he murmured to himself.

After collecting his thoughts for a moment more he stood up from the bench and began walking towards downtown. A resolute, grim expression was set on his features. Stepping off of the sidewalk and into the flow of traffic, his body responded to his intent with the speed of thought. He could feel the internal devices attached to his vitals whir into action, and the mechanism in his arms and legs ratchet into motion. The mechanical man grit his teeth again the discomfort and sped along the streets until he reached his destination, the Millennium City Police Department's 9th Precinct. The tall, austere structure felt far less welcoming than the flowing architecture of Renaissance Center. Sasha panted as he slowed to a stop, feeling his enhancements spin down from their more active state. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.


End file.
